


Bed Sharing

by justdk



Series: Rovinsky Week 2018 [7]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, School Trip, Sharing a Bed, Weed, k and ronan aren't a couple but all signs point to promising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: A reservation mixup has Kavinsky and Ronan sharing a bed on a school trip to Boston. Shenanigans ensue!





	Bed Sharing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rovinsky Week 2018, Day 8: Free

“I’m not really sure how this happened.” Milo ruffled the back of his hair, his forehead scrunched in consternation. “I made sure there were enough rooms and beds when I made the reservation.”

“It’s fine, man,” Kavinsky drawled. He hooked his arm around Ronan’s neck, having to stand on tiptoe to accomplish this. “Lynch and I are friendly.”

Ronan gave Kavinsky a look that clearly said _I think the fuck not_.

“Really?” Milo offered them a weak smile. “That’s good. I mean, sh— uh, shoot, if the school finds out…”

“Now why would they find out?” Kavinsky asked. “I’m not the kiss and tell type. I don’t know about Ronan though.”

Ronan glared. “No one is finding out about this,” he spat. “I mean it, Kavinsky. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Fine, fine.” Kavinsky released Ronan and took the room keycard from Milo. “Room 420, right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Milo replied. “Next to… oh.” He sighed heavily. “Next to Prokopenko and Jiang.”

“Oh fuck,” Ronan muttered. Kavinsky smiled gleefully.

—–

Kavinsky slid the card into the lock and opened the door to the room. It was spacious, nice, more upscale than a bunch of high school boys deserved but he was sure that was due to someone’s daddy insisting their heir not slum it at a Ramada Inn or Motel 6. There was a big screen TV, a mini fridge stocked with snacks, a table and two chairs, and, most importantly, an enormous bed. The duvet was a deep navy color; the sheets underneath a dull gold with a very high thread count. A nest of pillows covered half the bed and Kavinsky was already having visions of an epic pillow fight.

Ronan stood in the entryway, his overnight bag gripped in his hand. He was staring at the bed like it was something to be wary of. Kavinsky rolled his eyes and checked out the bathroom and was pleased to find a whirlpool tub and a glass shower with a little bench inside for sitting or for other, more exciting things. He smelled all the bath products; the scents were things like _raw silk_ and _sandalwood_.

When he returned to the bedroom he found Ronan standing next to the bed, anxiously chewing on his leather bands.

“Christ, Ronan,” Kavinsky said, “it’s not a honeymoon.”

“Shut up,” Ronan grumbled. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Kavinsky’s shoes. “You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

“Me?” Kavinsky asked using his most put upon tone. “We both know I’d have more fun cooped up in here with Proko.”

Ronan considered that for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Besides, you can always go stay in Gansey and Adam’s room. I’m sure one of them would be happy to share a bed with you. Or both of them. I don’t know how you lot roll.” Ronan blushed furiously until even the tips of his ears were bright pink.

“That… no,” Ronan shook his head. “No, I’m staying here.”

“Too much temptation, Catholic boy?”

“God, do you ever shut up?!” Ronan snapped. He was finally looking at Kavinsky, his chilly, uncertain demeanor crumbling.

“Only under very special circumstances.” Kavinsky probed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and winked.

“Gross.” Ronan didn’t look grossed out though. He brushed past Kavinsky and checked the fridge. “Damn. I thought these places had alcohol.”

Kavinsky had to use great self-restraint to play it cool when he flicked a fake ID at Ronan. Ronan bent down and picked it up, carefully examining it.

“Seriously?” he asked. “You made me an ID? I’m fucking touched.”

“You should be,” Kavinsky shrugged. “So, drinks?”

—–

The barman had eyed them and their IDs with some skepticism but deigned to serve them when Kavinsky slid him a twenty for his trouble. They had a few drinks at the bar and then snuck a few more back to their room.

Now they were in the midst of some pointless card game that Ronan was determined to teach Kavinsky. Apparently he was losing but he didn’t mind, his attention was fixed on Ronan, stealing glances and storing them away for later. Ronan laughing, ranting, even singing along to one of the songs on the playlist he was subjecting Kavinsky to.

It was getting close to midnight when the card games devolved into a pillow fight. They were loud, jumping around on the bed, hurling pillows at each other. Kavinsky got a good hit in, smacking Ronan in the face. Ronan retaliated by tackling him into the pile of pillows, wrestling around until he had Kavinsky firmly pinned beneath him. They were both breathing heavy, laughing in each other’s faces. At least until Ronan seemed to realize what he was doing. Even when tipsy Ronan wasn’t easily swept away; he released Kavinsky and rolled over onto his back, struggling to catch his breath.

“Shit,” Ronan gasped. “That was fun.”

Kavinsky nodded, feeling suddenly tired. “Man, I completely forgot. I brought party favors cause I thought Proko and I were rooming together.”

Ronan propped himself up and grinned at Kavinsky. “What kinda favors are we talking about?”

Kavinsky toppled off the bed and stumbled over to his bag. He dug around for a moment and returned with some joints he had rolled before leaving Aglionby.

Ronan raised his eyebrows. “We have a nonsmoking room, K.”

“Uh-huh.” Kavinsky wanted to beam. Ronan had called him ‘K’ and, more importantly, hadn’t turned down his proverbial peace pipe. “We also have a sweet balcony.”

“Oh yeah.” Ronan smiled at him. Legit smiled. Kavinsky was already floating on good vibes but this just topped it off.

He opened the balcony doors and Ronan brought a throw blanket and wrapped it around both of them. Kavinsky huddled close. For warmth. He showed Ronan how to smoke, instructing him on how long to hold the smoke. Watching Ronan get blazed was the best, feeling him relax, his eyes heavy lidded, lips molded around the joint. It was a struggle to keep his hands off of him, to not pull him down and swallow the smoke from his mouth.

“Man, I feel really good,” Ronan said, his voice lazy and slow. “Like… damn. Look at those lights, K. Looks like fuckin fireflies, man. This city looks so cool at night.”

Kavinsky leaned against Ronan’s shoulder and nodded sleepily. “Yeah. You know what would be best though?”

Ronan shook his head and looked down at him, his eyes dark, his breath visible in the chilly night air.

“If we were at one of my bonfires. The flames are so awesome and like hypnotizing. Sometimes I just stare at them for hours. It’s like I feel part of the heat and light. It’s the best, man.”

“Yeah.” Ronan sighed but it sounded contented rather than sad or tired. “That would be good.”

“Yeah.”

—–

By the time they actually decided to go to bed Kavinsky figured that the night was done, that there was no way to top the moments he’d shared with Ronan. Ronan hit the showers and Kavinsky stripped out of his clothes and pulled on sweats and a T-shirt before turning off most of the lights. He burrowed beneath the soft sheets and heavy duvet, feeling so relaxed and good that he had to twist around for a moment before settling on his side, a plush pillow clutched against his chest.

Ronan climbed into bed just as Kavinsky was almost asleep. He smelled like the hotel body wash, fresh and clean. Kavinsky thought Ronan would sleep on the opposite side of the bed in keeping with the unspoken bro code. But that wasn’t what happened. Instead Ronan moved to the middle of the bed and curled up with his back pressed against Kavinsky’s. Kavinsky’s body temp immediately shot up and he felt like he’d been paralyzed, not wanting to move and scare Ronan off. He clenched his eyes shut and listened to Ronan breath until he was finally lulled to sleep.

Kavinsky woke up feeling too warm, his limbs heavy, the scent of sandalwood filling his nose and making him feel confused. His face was pressed against something very firm and warm and there was a weight holding him still. He blinked his eyes open and pushed against the weight and was greeted by a muffled groan that almost sounded like someone saying _piss off_. Realization hit like a lightning bolt. He was in bed with Ronan Lynch and Ronan fucking Lynch was wrapped up around him like he was some body pillow. It was too good to be true.

No, it really was. Kavinsky had to piss and Ronan had a death grip on him. Kavinsky tried pushing him off and then resorted to tickling Ronan’s side. That did the trick. Ronan still didn’t wake up but he did shove Kavinsky off the bed.

“Fuck,” Kavinsky hissed, rubbing the back of his head as he clambered to his feet. Ronan had flopped onto his stomach and was imitating a starfish, spreading his limbs out to take up at least half the bed. Kavinsky shook his head and took a pic so he could forever remember this moment. Then he retreated to the privacy of the bathroom.

The group tour of famous Boston locations was set to begin early so Kavinsky did Ronan the favor of ordering up a spectacular hangover breakfast that was promptly delivered by room service. By the time Ronan’s alarm went off Kavinsky had already eaten his omelet and bacon and drank half the coffee. Ronan stumbled over and shoved the rest of the bacon in his mouth and trudged off to the bathroom. He had lost his shirt during the night and Kavinsky admired the tattoo on his retreating back. Truly, God loved him today.

“So,” Ronan said after joining Kavinsky, “what the fuck happened last night?”

Kavinsky frowned. “We drank, played cards, had a pillow fight, smoked, and slept. Oh, and you used me as a body pillow and almost suffocated me in my sleep.”

Ronan sighed and drank some coffee. “Good. That’s what I remember but I just… my dreams were really weird so I wanted to make sure.”

“Weird like how?”

Ronan flushed and focused on buttering his toast. “That’s a really personal question, K.”

“Oh! Oh… you had a sex dream?!”

“K!” Ronan threw a napkin at him. Kavinsky batted it away and laughed and laughed. “It’s _not_ funny.”

“It is, man,” Kavinsky said, wiping away tears. “It really is. Was it about me? C’mon, tell me, tell me.”

“Never.” Ronan huffed. Kavinsky grinned. That was as good as a confession. “Anyway, don’t tell anyone.”

“Hey man, what happens in Boston stays in Boston.”

Ronan ducked his head but Kavinsky still caught the smile that played over his lips. Yeah, this school trip was pretty fucking awesome.

[sorry there was actually very little time in bed… and I meant for the Dream Pack to maybe come party but ya know that probably happens at some point during their trip. rich boys take school trips, right?]

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @dkafterdark


End file.
